


Sunrise

by jeongochi



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gangsters, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Gen, M/M, Major Character Injury, skz are all in a gang!, woojin goes through a lot im sorry, woolix if you squint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-17
Updated: 2019-02-17
Packaged: 2019-10-30 10:26:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17826893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jeongochi/pseuds/jeongochi
Summary: The sound of gunshots still resonated in the air along with shouts from both gangs. It was all background noise to Woojin. He couldn’t focus on anything else except for the throbbing, excruciating pain in his chest and stomach area. He could hear Chan talking, barking out orders to the rest of Stray Kids, but he couldn’t hear him over the waves of pain crashing through his body. How could he focus on anything Chan was saying when he’d just been shot?





	Sunrise

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! So this is the first piece of writing that I’ve ever written and published (s/o to my good friend Ves for bullying me-) and I’m excited!
> 
> Fair warning that before you read, this contains gore and violence. I hope you enjoy xx

* * *

 

He had only let his guard down for a moment. He didn’t know that the other gang would’ve noticed and took it as their opportunity to unload all their ammo into him, and thankfully _only_ him. They were lucky that the other gang wasn’t as skilled as them, for if this situation were to be reversed, the rival gang members would already be a crippled heap of bodies. Stray Kids were notorious for their coordination, teamwork, and their own individual skills. Woojin, in specific, was an excellent contribution to the gang: he was extremely experienced with hand-to-hand combat, he was good with any type of gun, and he knew right from wrong when making important decisions.

 

And yet, despite that he was one of the most experienced, here he was, hiding and writhing in pain behind the rest of Stray Kids. When the first round of bullets ruptured through his body, it was almost as if he couldn’t register the fact that he had gotten shot. Maybe it was because of the shock…?

 

When he first joined the gang—he was one of the very first members—he’d gotten injured a couple of times but they were nothing but just minor injuries though. They were never this big. He’d seen Changbin get shot before, but it wasn’t in a crucial, life threatening spot like his. Changbin had only gotten a bullet in the arm, and of course, it looked like it hurt like hell when Chan had to dig into his skin and muscle just to get _one_ bullet out. Everyone in Stray Kids agreed on one thing: getting shot is never a walk in the park, no matter where it happens.

 

Woojin remembered suddenly feeling a quick burst of pain in his abdomen region, and then he was on the ground. He couldn’t help but give a sharp cry of pain as his breath came out in hard, exasperated pants. Everyone—except for Chan, who heard his cries—was too immersed in dodging the rest of the stray bullets. He forced himself to crawl over to a wooden container, hoping to find at least some sort of protection for that very moment. He rolled on his back and attempted to prop himself up on his elbows, trying to examine the damage. Even though his shirt was black, he could still see the dark stains and holes of where the bullets had entered his body. He clenched his teeth, blinking back tears of pain as he guided one of his shaking hands to his stomach area, pulling it back and seeing dark red blood staining his hand.

 

_Ohmygod ohmygod ohmyGOD._

 

Woojin was ripped away from his thoughts when he heard Chan’s voice cut through the mixture of sounds.

 

“Stray Kids, cover me, cover me!”

 

Chan darted towards him, not caring if he was reckless. Chan knew well enough that the other members would cover and protect him with their lives. Within seconds, he was crouched down in front of Woojin, putting a hand on his shoulder and looking over his injuries.

 

“Are you okay?” Chan’s words came out in a frantic rush as he scooped one arm around Woojin’s side to get him to a standing position. His eyes widened as he saw Woojin’s hand soaked in his own blood, his brows then furrowing in mild concern. Woojin let out a groan of pain, leaning back on the wooden container, his legs trembling.

 

“I—I’m okay.” he lied. His friend already looked riled up more than he needed to be. Even though Chan’s face expressed that he didn’t believe him in the slightest, he still gave him a tight lipped smile.

 

“Okay, let’s get you out of here.”

 

They started to duck behind the numerous containers surrounding the area, and soon enough they reached one of the metal doors that they had entered from. He violently slid the door open, practically dragging Woojin through it. Chan turned back around, eyes frantically darting around the room, looking for one person in particular who knew the escape plan almost as well as he did.

 

“Jisung-ah! Sriracha! Sriracha now!”

 

Without hesitation, Jisung locked eyes with Chan, giving him a curt nod as he pulled two smoke grenades out of his side pocket, quickly pulling each of the pins out with his free hand. He slightly shook the containers as cocked his arm back, and shouted, “Stray Kids, let’s go!”

 

Before the rival gang could even process what was happening, Jisung sent the grenades flying in the general direction of them, collecting all his members and giving them looks of determination as they all bolted towards the open door where Woojin and Chan were still standing. They hadn’t gotten far due to Woojin’s injuries, but they quickly moved out of the way as the rest of the members came barreling towards them. The dark red smoke was quickly flooding the main room, and before they could get consumed by it, Jisung slammed the door shut, and all noises of the rival gang became muffled from the other side.

 

They were all breathing hard, and some put their hands on their knees, chests heaving with relief. Chan did a mental headcount of everyone in their circle, and he let out a sigh of relief as he counted a total of 9. They all looked exhausted, but no one looked like they had gotten shot. Well, no one except for...

 

“Oh my God, Woojin-hyung!”

 

He heard Felix shout and come frantically running over to where they were, and Chan turned his gaze back to the boy who was leaning on him. His hand was still clutching his stomach, in a weak attempt to somehow stop the continuous bleeding. However, he looked up the moment he heard Felix’s voice.

 

“Feli-”

 

“Wait, hyung, take this,” Felix blurted out, quickly untying the white bandana from his thigh and held it out to Woojin. “Maybe...maybe it can help stop the bleeding?”

 

Woojin felt his mouth turn up in a small smile of gratitude, eyes full of love for the kind hearted blonde, knowing that _that_ specific baby was Felix’s lucky one. He always wore it on their missions and most of the time, they always completed them without having anyone injured. With the exception for that particular day.

 

“Thank you, Lix,”

 

He let his free hand rest of Felix’s shoulder, hoping his smile was enough to let him know how grateful he was. Felix beamed in return, his smile almost bright enough to make Woojin forget he even got shot in the first place.

 

* * *

 

They had all split up, Chan demanding that he stay with Woojin and promising to meet the rest of them at the car. No one argued, of course. But because Woojin was injured, it caused them both to get left behind and lose sight of the group.

 

After what seemed like hours and hours—even though it had only been a couple of minutes—of limping and desperately trying to find the main exit, Woojin felt his legs start to give out. But he had to keep going. For his members. He _had_ to make it out alive. He wouldn’t be able to die peacefully until he knew that each and every single one of his members made it out okay. He knew that they probably did, and even though he had just seen them, he wanted to see them _one last time_.

 

“Woojin, please, we need to hurry!”

 

Chan still had one arm under his to support him, the other one holding Woojin’s hand resting on his shoulder. They both stumbled over their own steps as they continued to maneuver themselves through the abandoned warehouse. Who knew they could feel so lost in a place so empty?

 

“Stop, stop, stop.” Woojin used what remained of his strength to apply more pressure onto the rag. He took a shallow breath. He felt like his whole body was doused in gasoline and lit on fire. Words couldn’t even begin to explain how much physical pain he was in; every step he took felt like a blow to his ribs, his teeth clenched in an attempt to hold in his cries. All the shock was washing off and he was starting to feel the _real_ pain.

 

He suddenly got agitated as Chan refused to slow down, still trying to drag him along. “Chan, I’ve just been fucking _shot,_ I said _stop_!”

 

Chan stopped immediately, hearing how agonized Woojin’s cracked, yet stern, voice sounded. His panic increased even more than it already was, endless waves and waves of adrenaline flowing through his veins. They had come to an open space, piles of cement blocks scattered around the area. Chan scanned the room again, realizing that this was one of the areas where the other members must have exited out of, seeing that the door was still propped open. Just a little bit more and they’d be united with the rest of their group—

 

He tightened his grip on Woojin’s body, guiding him to the side of an enormous cement block where they could at least catch their breath for a minute or two. They were close, _so_ close to the exit, but something in Woojin’s mind and body had shut down.

 

“Chan,” he slipped his arm off of Chan’s neck as he slid down on the cement block they’d stopped by. Blood smeared against it, leaving a bright red, skid mark against the grainy, white block. He let out a cry as his bottom hit the ground, shooting rockets of pain throughout his body yet again. “I...I think you should leave me.”

 

Chan’s face contorted into a look of discomfort, and he immediately bent down to be at eye level with Woojin.

 

“If you think, even for another _second_ , that I’m just going to _leave_ you here, Woojin, you’re out of your goddamn mind.” Chan’s voice was clear with no room for excuses. “We’re almost there, _please_.”

 

Woojin opened his mouth to try and justify himself, but something was wrong. He was breathing, in and out, in and out—but it wasn’t smooth. It sounded like something was wedged in his throat, clogging up his esophagus, and his chest had so much _pressure_ on it. Was he choking on his own blood? Were his lungs just exhausted from working after all that had happened so far? Or maybe it was because he had fucking _bullets_ lodged in his vital organs.

 

_I’m not going to make it out of here._

 

He felt his body go numb as he felt his own blood suffocating him. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t _breathe_. He still held onto the rag, pushing on it as hard as he could to try and stop the bleeding, but he knew that there was no way it would help reverse what had already happened. The only thing that felt right to do at that moment was to just succumb to the pain.

   

“No, no no no, Woojin! Don’t you _dare_ close your eyes on me! I’m right here, okay? I’m right here, I’m not leaving you.” Chan cupped Woojin’s face with his own blood stained hands—who even knows _whose_ blood it is at this point—forcing him to look into his determined, pleading eyes, whereas Woojin’s were now lidded and starting to look dull. It was as if all the light and hope was draining from his body.

 

As he opened his mouth again to reply, he stopped abruptly as he felt blood start to trickle out of his mouth. He instinctively took a deep breath in and coughed, wet and heavy. Woojin moaned and gurgled in misery as he let his hand fall from the rag, the fight in him slowly leaving. Chan’s heart ripped itself apart. Woojin was choking on his own blood.

 

_Fuck, fuck, FUCK._

 

“It’s okay, don’t say anything, okay? You don’t need to say anything, you’re gonna be okay, alright?” The words came out in another rush as he took his hands away from Woojin’s face to momentarily guide his hand back to where it was on the rag. “Just keep applying pressure here, okay? I’m gonna take care of you, Wooj, I’m gonna take care of you, it’s gonna be okay.”

 

Woojin shook his head.

 

_I’m not going to make it._

 

Woojin _knew_ he was gonna die, and he was willing to accept it now. He _had_ to.

 

Chan brought his hands back up to Woojin’s face noticing the tears slowly cascade down his cheeks, smearing them with blood as an attempt to wipe them away.

 

“Woojin, don’t cry,” Chan felt a lump in his throat begin to form as he did his best to use his thumb to wipe what was remaining on Woojin’s cheeks. “Don’t cry…” Chan willed himself not to let the stinging tears behind his eyes spill, he had to stay strong for Woojin right now. It was the least he could do.

 

“You’re gonna be okay, I promise, I promise you, that we’re gonna make it out of here, okay?” he tumbled over his words as he pleaded with Woojin. “We’re gonna get you out of here and find you some help, we’re gonna get you some help and—”

 

“Chan…” Woojin whimpered, bringing his free hand up to rest on top of one of Chan’s. He attempted to clear his throat so he could at least say his last words to Chan _very_ clearly. “I-I just—”

 

He stopped again as he felt a coughing fit coming _at that exact moment_ without _any_ warning, and he put his hands on Chan’s shoulder, weakly pushing him away. His body involuntarily took another breath in, and he tried his best to prepare himself for what was about to happen. And once he started, he couldn’t stop. He turned his head to the side, not wanting to get anything on Chan. Each cough made his chest _burn_ as if thousands and thousands of acid covered needles were stabbing into him with each and every single one. It hurt. _A lot._ Everything hurt. But he couldn’t stop. Blood splattered the dusty, stained cement floor as he continued, not being able to hold himself back. He would’ve screamed in complete, utter anguish if he could. This was the worse pain he’d ever felt in his entire life, maybe worse than getting shot.

 

_It hurts, it hurts._

 

He coughed so hard and so much that he felt like he was going to throw up. Could he throw up even if he wanted to? His organs that had gotten shot were screaming at him, gushing blood with each forceful movement of each cough. What a _miracle_ that his lungs were still working hard to keep him coughing.

 

Within those few minutes of seeing Woojin in _that_ much pain and not being able to do anything to help, Chan gently rubbed Woojin’s arm, whispering that he’s there, and he’s not going to leave. Soon enough, the coughing had finally subsided, leaving Woojin feeling like a fleshed out, hollow shell. He leaned his head back against the concrete block, hand still on the rag, but not putting any pressure on it. He was physically unable to. His breaths came out in harsh pants, the lower portion of his mouth completely covered in blood. He didn’t know what else to do but to listen to the echoing sound of his heartbeat, knowing that it’ll soon slow down, and then come to a complete stop. He didn’t bother trying to prevent the tears that made his vision blurry yet again. He choked out a small, yet still painful, laugh.

 

“This is it for me, isn’t it, Chan...?” his voice was raspy, his vocal chords shredded and ripped apart. Woojin’s body shook with emotion as he let himself sob and laugh in disbelief. It hurt to do so, but what was the point of holding it in?

 

_He was going to die._

 

Chan aggressively shook his head, letting one hand grasp Woojin’s neck, the other cupping the side of his face again.

 

“Don’t—don’t say that, you’re gonna be fine, Woojin,” he felt the lump in his throat come back, and he did his best to swallow it. “I-I can fix this,” he paused as he tenderly stroked Woojin’s face. “ _We_ can fix this.”

 

Now it was Woojin’s turn to shake his head, being careful enough to not put his body into any more pain. It took all of his willpower to look Chan in the eyes as he told him the truth.

 

“No, Chan…It....It’s over for me,” he averted his gaze to the tainted floor, a sad smile playing at his lips. “We both know that I’m not going to make it.”

 

Chan’s felt his lip quiver and he pulled his mouth into a flat line in an attempt to control himself. He tightened his grip ever so slightly as he curled his fingers in both Woojin’s hair and shirt, gently bringing him in close for a one-sided embrace.

 

“Don’t—don’t _say_ that, Woojin,” he let a couple tears slip, mixing with the blood on Woojin’s shoulder. “I-it’s not over for you yet, for _us_.” he closed his eyes, feeling his brows furrow in hurt and torment of even _thinking_ about losing Woojin at that moment.

 

“We—we can get through this, okay? The kids—they-they _need_ you, Woojin,” he let out a shuddering breath as he continued. “ _I_ need you.”

 

Woojin slightly tugged on the bottom of Chan’s shirt, causing him to pull back with a questioning, kicked puppy look. Woojin forced himself to smile, trying to hide the fact that he felt as if his lungs were rapidly collapsing on themselves.

 

He shook his head, yet again.

 

“Chan,” he put his eyes back to the fresh blood stains tainting the floor. His chest started to feel tighter and tighter as he felt his blood rushing back up to his throat. “I—I need to tell you something before I...”

 

He tried to clear his throat, still holding onto Chan’s shirt as he tried to continue. But Chan didn’t want to hear it.

 

“No, no don’t you dare talk anymore, don’t _say_ anything else, Woojin,” his hands were still cusping Woojin’s neck, the stinging sensation coming back once again. Woojin eventually looked up, eyes still full of tears and expression so devoid of life, that it made Chan’s stomach want to twist and rip itself out of his body.

 

“Chan, I—” Woojin started, but was suddenly hit with another short, yet still _extremely_ painful, coughing fit. At that point, he really truly felt as if his lungs and heart were about to give up on him. It all hurt _so much_. But he didn’t have time for that. He needed to tell Chan.

 

He needed to tell Chan that he loved him. That he loved every single moment they spent together; whether it be waking the kids up in the morning, scolding them for not brushing their teeth, cleaning and reloading guns while making jokes and laughing to both of their heart's content, or even exchanging soft touches and low whispers of “I love you” during the late nights they slept together.

 

He needed Chan to know that he loved being in their family of misfits. That being with Stray Kids was the best part of his shortly lived life.

 

Before Stray Kids, he was nothing. Just some 22 year old lowlife who had no one. No one to go home to, no one to say “Happy Birthday” to him, no one who even cared about him enough to spare him a second glance.

 

No one who loved him.

 

But when Chan saw him roaming the abandoned, icy streets of Busan, and immediately took him in, he didn’t miss how the light in Woojin’s eyes had started to gradually come to life as he smiled.

 

_Thank you for giving me a home._

 

However, with his chest and stomach violently ripping and shredding themselves apart and blood pooling out of his mouth like a broken faucet, it was hard to say all of what he wanted to say. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, taking a restricted breath of air. His smile quivered as eyes filled with tears, not only of pain, but sadness. He reached up to gingerly touch Chan’s cheek, stroking it with so much love and admiration that it made Chan’s heart swell and ache. He leaned into his touch, finally allowing himself to cry.

 

“I’ll always be here with you.”

 

_I’ll always protect you._

 

Chan didn’t say anything, he simply nodded at everything Woojin said, holding and grasping onto every single word that came out of his mouth. His body shook as his soft cries eventually became loud, gut wrenching sobs. He interlocked one of his hands with Woojin’s, bringing their hands to his mouth, kissing the tips of Woojin’s fingers softly, and then slowly placing their intertwined hands over his heart.

 

_I’ll always love you._

 

“Keep leading Stray Kids.”

 

_Tell the kids that I’ll be watching over them._

 

Chan nodded once more, his hand tightening as he held onto Woojin, feeling his grip start to get weaker and weaker with each second that ticked by.

 

His heart suffocated and ignited with what he’d consider to be the worse amount of pain he’d ever experienced as he saw Woojin’s mouth tip up ever so slightly, giving Chan one last smile before taking his last breath, and letting himself go.

 

And it seemed like at that exact moment, illuminating, golden light started to seep through the broken windows and cracked door of the abandoned warehouse.

 

It was sunrise.

**Author's Note:**

> If by any chance you have any questions, feel free to dm me on twitter @jeongochi or comment below :)


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